


you say that i have a heart of gold and a body that you long to hold (but you don’t love me)

by teamfreeawesome



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Low Self-Esteem, M/M, Open relationship without defined boundaries, Under-negotiated Kink, Unequal relationship, Unrequited Love, and have the person tell you they don’t want you anymore, everything is awful: the Mitch Marner theme song, fluff at the end!, putting up with being treated badly because you don’t want to rock the boat, unhealthy relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-24 21:34:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21345037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teamfreeawesome/pseuds/teamfreeawesome
Summary: “I guess,” Mitch says. “I just wish I could stop being so… so ridiculous about it. It’s not like I’m inlovewith him.”There’s a pause; a tense moment of almost silence, the hum of the air conditioner the only sound for a long second.“Aren’t you?” Connor says, and –Fuck.Fuck.
Relationships: Matt Martin/Mitch Marner, William Nylander/Mitch Marner
Comments: 10
Kudos: 143





	you say that i have a heart of gold and a body that you long to hold (but you don’t love me)

**Author's Note:**

> This story is... even less about the actual people than normal RPF. It’s taken me more than a year to finish it, and it’s a story I needed to write, if only just for me. Now that it’s done, I can finally move on and start writing fun things! Other things! ANYTHING ELSE. 
> 
> Willy is the antagonist for no reason other than this is the pairing I chose. I’m sure he’s lovely in real life.
> 
> Thank you to D for listening to me talk about this for a billion years. And thank you to K for reading this in its many iterations, reassuring me every time I lost faith, and for being a wonderful friend. 
> 
> Title from Kyla La Grange’s ‘Courage.’
> 
> Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. I do not equate these fictional characters to their real life counterparts. Entirely made up, 100%. Please keep this work confined to fan spaces.

Mitch is –

He’s not sure how he got here, to be honest. Or, well. He does know. It’s not like things like this happen out of nowhere, but it’s just so ridiculous. Mitch had a full, meaningful life before this, and suddenly it doesn’t feel like enough anymore. Like being on his own isn’t enough anymore. Now –

Now, it’s like there’s this empty, yawning space in his chest. A knot in his belly. It’s –

Every time he looks at Willy, his heart thumps painfully against his ribcage, his stomach twisting on itself, and he just –

He’s annoyed with himself. Annoyed that he’s let this go on as long as it has when he knows he’s never going to get what he wants from it. When he knows that clutching at tiny scraps of hope is unhealthy, and only going to make the feeling worse in the long run. When Mitch thinks about it, it’s strange to realise that they’ve only been sleeping together for a year. It feels like so much longer; almost like Mitch can’t remember a time when he wasn’t fucking around with Willy. It’s just –

He’s never felt like this about someone before, and it’s messing with his head. His feelings are omnipresent; overwhelming and devastating, and it’s making him act irrationally. It’s like there’s some external power moving him around like a pawn, plucking at his heartstrings for a laugh. Mitch feels like he’s lost the ability to make rational, good decisions for himself. Instead, he just follows Willy around like a desperate puppy, begging for scraps of affection that might mean something. 

“I’m not saying you should stop,” Connor says. “But I am saying that maybe you should think about how it’s making you feel.”

“I know,” Mitch sighs. “It’s okay. You’re allowed to say it. I know you think I should stop. I think I should stop. I don’t know why – why I keep going back for more. Objectively, Willy’s fucking terrible. Or like. Not a terrible person… just terrible to me.”

Connor snorts. 

“I’m pretty sure that makes him a shitty person, bro.”

“No, but like,” Mitch protests. “Okay, so. You’re probably right, but – I’m making all the right noises, yeah? Like, I’m pretty sure he knows he’s fucking me around, but I haven’t told him how it’s making me feel. Instead, I’m just here, desperately hoping that one day he might wake up and realise that he has to make a decision about what he wants.” He laughs a little, and it hurts his throat as it comes up. The whole thing hurts. “Fuck. I just keep going back for more. At least – shit, at least the sex is good.”

Connor smiles, but it looks strained at the corners. There are dark circles under his eyes, and Mitch feels bad for complaining about this stuff when Connor has hockey to worry about. And, to be honest, there’s a part of him that’s angry that he’s having to spend this much time thinking about what’s going on with him and Willy when he’s also got hockey to think about. 

“I’m sorry,” Mitch says. “I know I should just tell him to fuck off.”

“Maybe,” Connor says. “But there’s no should, bro. Maybe it would be helpful in the long term if you told him to fuck off, but at the moment, we both know you’re not going to. And you have to make that decision for yourself. It wouldn’t matter how many times I told you to ditch him. It has to come from you, dude.”

“I guess,” Mitch says. “I just wish I could stop being so… so ridiculous about it. It’s not like I’m in love with him.”

There’s a pause; a tense moment of almost silence, the hum of the air conditioner the only sound for a long second. 

“Aren’t you?” Connor says, and – 

Fuck. _Fuck._

//

It starts on a not-so dark and stormy afternoon, with soft light streaming in through the windows of Mitch’s kitchen. He’s got a bunch of the guys round, but Mitch is here, on his own with Willy unexpectedly. Alone with Willy’s broad back that takes up a ridiculous amount of space; with his arms and the long stretch of his neck. 

It’s not really movie-like. Not a romantic catching of gazes across the room, or anything particularly reminiscent of a rom-com cliché, even if Mitch feels like he’s in one sometimes. Instead, it’s a slow-curling feeling in Mitch’s gut. Willy’s moved into the space next to him at the breakfast bar, a mug of coffee in one hand, and he’s smiling. Breathes in, gaze flicking down to Mitch’s mouth, and it’s like something goes hot and tense in the air. Like the kitchen suddenly becomes three times warmer, and Mitch can feel sweat beading at the small of his back. 

“Can I -” Willy starts. 

“Can you what?” Mitch asks. His mouth feels so dry, and he can feel his pulse in his palms. “Willy?” 

“Can I kiss you?” Willy gets out, almost through gritted teeth, his cheeks flushing prawn-pink. “I really want to fucking kiss you.”

It feels like Mitch’s entire body clenches with want, his heart in his mouth as he meets Willy’s gaze. 

“Oh my god,” Mitch says, a thick rush of adrenalin kicking up his spine. His odd, Toronto-hockey dreams are all spiralling inwards towards a weird, true realisation of themselves. Willy wants to kiss him. “_Yes_,” he whisper-sighs, like an Austen-era protagonist. “Yes.” 

Willy blinks. Takes a deep breath and leans in, his hair falling forwards as he reaches out to cradle Mitch’s face in his big hands. Their eyes meet, just for a second, before Mitch’s flutter shut, and in that moment – 

Mitch has never felt so seen. So known. It’s like Willy has peeled back all the layers of Mitch’s skin, leaving him a mess of nerve endings; a revelation of soft, vulnerable pinkness that makes up his insides. It feels like –

Fuck, it feels like Willy is touching all the parts of Mitch that nobody ever has before. 

“Willy,” Mitch whispers, and –

Willy’s mouth meets Mitch’s, and it’s so warm. It’s not sparks or fire, but instead a shivery, soft trickle of warmth that slides under Mitch’s skin. It’s Willy’s lips against Mitch’s until Mitch feels like he might melt under the feeling of it all. It’s just so much. It’s all so much. In the back of his mind, Mitch’s aware of the slight twinge in his back from the way he’s twisted, and the ache in his neck from the way he’s angled, but really, that’s all just background noise. He can’t focus on it because it’s buried under the overwhelming feeling of Willy’s attention; of his focus and affection and his mouth. 

“Shit,” Willy murmurs when he pulls away. “Mitch, fuck. I’ve wanted to do that for ages.”

“Yeah?” Mitch asks, something smug and warm fluttering in his belly. “You have?” 

“Fuck,” Willy says. “You’re going to be such a fucking tease.”

Mitch grins, shrugging a little, and lets himself be pulled back in for another kiss. 

//

They don’t fuck straight away. Not after the kiss, anyway. Willy leaves with a soft, backwards glance, and then drags Mitch out for dinner a couple of days later. 

“I like you,” Willy says, hooking his ankle around Mitch’s under the table. “A lot.”

Mitch shivers. He feels like –

Fuck. He doesn’t know how to describe it. Like he’s getting caught on the edges of Willy all the time. Like his gaze is sticky; catching on the cut of Willy’s jaw. On the curve of his smile. On the sweep of his hands as he talks. 

“You’re just -” Willy continues. “I don’t even know how to put it into words, dude. You make my pulse race.” He laughs. “Your smile is something else.”

“I like you too,” Mitch murmurs, nudging Willy’s leg with his knee. 

He feels overwhelmed. Bashful in a way he never normally is. He can’t help looking; gaze sticking on Willy’s biceps, and the barely-there freckles over his nose. On the way Willy’s hands look, fingernails bitten down to the quick. On the softness of his mouth. On the stretch of his shoulders under his shirt. The look behind his eyes. 

“I’ve never felt like this about somebody before,” he says, words tumbling out of his mouth before he can vet them. 

It’s the truth though. He’s never liked someone this much before. It feels like he’s hanging on to every word that comes out of Willy’s mouth. Like his whole self is being subsumed by Willy’s existence. He wants to see Willy and listen to Willy. Wants to know what Willy thinks about anything and everything. He just –

He wants to wake up to Willy. Go to sleep to Willy. Live and breathe him. 

It’s fucking infuriating. Willy is taking up eighty-five percent of his bran, when previously he’d only been a vague pipe dream. 

“Do you want to come back to mine?” Willy asks when they’ve finished eating. “No pressure.”

And – 

Mitch stands at a crossroad, two universes stretching out before him, and –

Makes the wrong choice. 

//

Look. Mitch wishes he was the kind of person who could have casual sex. The kind of person who could sleep with someone because it’s fun, and not because – 

Not because he has feelings. He wishes he was a cool, blasé kind of person who could fuck without strings. But –

It’s so ridiculous that he ever thought he was. That he thought he could be. 

“It’s not ridiculous,” Zach hisses, tugging on his pants. 

They’re in a corner of the locker room, and it’s not where Mitch would be choosing to have this conversation, but it seems to be happening anyway. 

“It is,” Mitch insists. “Who gets like this? Clingy and desperate, when they knew going in that it was just friends with benefits.” 

Zach’s face twists. He reaches out, touches Mitch’s wrist gently. 

“People who weren’t told it was friends with benefits to begin with,” he says softly. “And people who’re getting dicked around.” 

“Ha,” Mitch snorts. “Dicked. I am getting dicked on the regular, it’s true.” 

Zach just looks at him, his eyes big and concerned. 

“You don’t have to joke about things that hurt, you know, bro. You can just admit that it’s painful.” 

“I’m – I’m not hurting.” 

He feels caught. A little bit bruised, like Zach is digging his fingers in. Poking at the sensitive skin to see if he screams. 

“Okay,” Zach says, disbelief heavy in his voice. “Okay. Well, if it – if you want to talk to someone, I’m here for you, dude. This shit is hard, even if you don’t want to admit it. I’m here if you need me.” 

“I -” Mitch starts. Clears his throat. “Thanks, man.” 

And – 

He might talk to Zach. Just not… now. He just. He wanted to be what Willy wanted, and somehow that’s resulted in him trying to mould himself into a shape that doesn’t fit. At least – 

If this experience has taught him anything, it’s that he catches feelings far too easily to do this again. 

//

The issue is, Willy doesn’t want a relationship. 

“I like that we don’t have to label this,” Willy says, and Mitch –

Listen, Mitch knows he should have realised from the start. He thinks he might know more about the inner workings of Willy than he does about hockey. He knows all about the ups and downs of Willy’s previous flings, and the way Willy feels when he sleeps with someone new. 

It’s not galling. He tells himself it’s not galling and not painful to be Willy’s newest conquest. It’s exactly what he signed up for. He agreed to have sex with someone who notoriously wouldn’t do relationships. Signed up for sex with no strings, but somehow – 

It still feels awful. 

He thinks that maybe it’s because Willy doesn’t have firm, clear boundaries. Things seem to slide into the romantic every time they hang out, and it’s –

Mitch isn’t sure how to process it. With how it makes him feel. 

“I don’t do romance,” Willy says over the phone, and Mitch has to take a deep breath. Remind himself that he signed up for this. That Willy’s allowed to talk about this.

“It’s weird,” Willy continues. “I don’t think people understand. I meet them, and we hang out, and then they always end up thinking it’s something it’s not.”

“Yeah,” Mitch says, because to say anything else feels like too much. 

“Not like you,” Willy says. Mitch can hear his smile. “You’re so good to me.”

It’s a little like a punch to the gut. Leaves Mitch feeling breathless and a little bit sick. 

“Yeah,” he says again. “Yeah.” 

//

Mitch always feels a little bit nervous when he turns up at Willy’s, despite the fact that they’ve been sleeping together for months now. It’s not that he doesn’t think he’ll be welcome, but there’s something about knocking on Willy’s door that means that Mitch is admitting to himself that he wants him. It’s like – 

He knocks on Willy’s door, and he’s saying ‘yes, I know that this is terrible for my self-esteem and is only really breaking my heart into tinier pieces every time I’m here, but I’m doing it anyway.’ And with that reverberating around his brain, there’s also ‘what if Willy changes his mind? What if he doesn’t want me anymore?” 

But, like usual, Willy opens the door. Grins, and it’s awkward for all of ten seconds before he reels Mitch in for a kiss. Tugs him close and lets the door shut behind them; gets his hands in Mitch’s hair and positions Mitch how he wants him. 

It feels like being… commandeered. Like being owned. Willy’s body declares that ownership, big hands confident on Mitch’s skin, and it makes Mitch’s knees go weak. And then – 

And then Willy pulls away. Offers Mitch a drink, and suddenly Mitch is on the back foot again. He never seems to be able to gain any kind of foothold with Willy. 

“Date night,” Willy says delightedly, and Mitch’s traitorous heart thumps hopefully in his chest, even as he tries to squash any rising feelings resolutely. “I love date night with you.” 

“Me too,” Mitch says quietly, watching as Willy disappears down the hall. 

He hangs his coat up on Willy’s coat rack. Kicks his shoes off and leaves them by the door. 

“I made you coffee,” Willy calls from the kitchen. 

Mitch takes a deep breath. Shakes himself. 

“Thanks!” He calls back. 

Pulls on a grin, and heads through to the kitchen. It’s –

Willy looks so fucking good, and it hurts a little to look at him. He’s leaning against the counter, casual and smug looking. His shoulders are so broad, and his shirt is straining against his muscles. His biceps look huge, and his hair artfully mussed. He looks up at Mitch, something self-satisfied and warm behind his eyes, and Mitch just kind of… hovers in the doorway, heat shivering under his skin. 

“Have you eaten?” Willy asks. 

He tilts his head a little, and it makes Mitch want to get on his knees for him. Swallow Willy down until they’re almost one person.

“Yeah,” he says, annoyed at the way it comes out slightly breathless. “I ate with Matts.”

An odd expression flickers across Willy’s face for barely a second, unpleasant and a little pinched, before it dissolves into a smile again. 

“Good,” he says. “So, hey. Want to cuddle?” 

Mitch laughs, the tips of his ears burning as he shrugs. 

“Don’t I always?”

“True,” Willy grins. 

He closes the gap between them, crowding Mitch out into the hallway. His body is giving off so much heat, and Mitch’s stomach quivers. 

“Hey,” Willy says, bumping his nose gently against Mitch’s. “You know I don’t hang out with you just for the sex, right? I like your company. If you ever, like. Don’t feel into it, or whatever, you know you call tell me. Right? I like the whole you-ness of you, not just your body.” 

“I know,” Mitch says, rolling his eyes. “I’m not fragile, dude. I don’t need the gentle touch.”

“Maybe I want to treat you gently sometimes,” Willy says, moving in even closer. He noses at the base of Mitch’s neck, making something hot and shivery tremble up Mitch’s spine. “Maybe I want to make love to you.” 

And it’s – 

Fucked. Absolutely fucked how much that gets Mitch in the gut. How much it makes him want to crumple and bend. To do whatever it is that Willy might want. 

“Yeah?” Mitch breathes. 

“Yeah,” Willy says, nipping gently at Mitch’s earlobe. “Let me take you to bed, dude.” 

“Please,” Mitch whispers. 

“I’ve got you, baby.” 

Willy tugs on Mitch’s hair, and it sends a spike of shocking pleasure through Mitch. He whimpers. 

“Fuck, I love it when you make those noises,” Willy hisses, pulling roughly at Mitch’s hair until he goes loose, soft, unintentional noises falling from his lips. “You love it, don’t you, baby? You love my cock.” 

“Yeah,” Mitch breathes. 

“No,” Willy says, fisting Mitch’s hair and yanking. “Say it for me. Say that you love my cock.” 

“Willy,” Mitch moans. “I’m – fuck – I’m yours. I love your cock. Please.” 

“Yeah you are.” 

Willy’s eyes have gone dark. His hands hard. He looks like he can’t get enough of Mitch. Like Mitch is too much and not enough all at once. Like he wants to eat Mitch; take him apart with his hands. Make Mitch beg. It’s hot enough to make Mitch want to fold to his knees; let Willy take what he wants. Do what he wants. 

“_Please_,” he says again, barely breathing. He wants it so much. He needs it. “Willy.” 

“Yeah,” Willy smirks. “Don’t worry, I’m going to give it to you. Get your ass upstairs.” 

Mitch moans, before scrambling up the stairs as fast as he can. He can feel Willy behind him; the heat of his body, and his gaze on Mitch’s back. It makes him feel clumsy and desperate. Makes him want it even more. Willy’s attention makes him feel flushed. Desired. He likes the shivery feeling that comes with it. He just – 

He likes the way Willy takes him out of his own head. Likes the way that physical intimacy makes him feel. It sometimes feels like he’s begging for it, especially from friends and teammates, but with Willy it’s freely given. 

He’s barely through the bedroom door before Willy is slamming him up against the wall, pulling Mitch’s hands above his head and pressing them against the plaster; tangling his fingers with Mitch’s until he can’t move. Until he doesn’t want to. 

“Look at you,” Willy says, deep and rough, and it makes Mitch tremble. Makes his hips buck up and his dick twitch. “Look at how desperate you are for it.”

“Willy,” Mitch breathes. It feels like his skin is burning up. His clothes are too tight and he just – 

He wants Willy to kiss him so badly. 

“_Please_.” 

“Please what, baby?” 

“Please. Anything. All of it. Kiss me. Fuck me. Fill me up and leave me dripping,” Mitch begs. 

He feels so desperate, desire burning him up from the inside out. Being held like this is making him practically incoherent; frantic and almost angry with how much he wants it. He’s frustrated and buzzing, but so ready to roll over for Willy at any moment. 

“Oh, I’ll leave you dripping, alright,” Willy says, nipping at Mitch’s earlobe and grinning when it makes Mitch shiver. “I’m going to fill you up good. Make you walk around with my come dripping down your legs. Coat you in my spunk until there’s no mistaking you for anything but mine.” 

The noise that comes out of Mitch’s mouth surprises him. It’s breathless, almost like it’s been punched out of him, high, desperate and loud. 

“Yeah, you like that,” Willy says. 

“_Yes_.” 

Willy grins. Lets one of Mitch’s hands go; buries his own deep in Mitch’s hair and yanks, pulling Mitch’s head back to expose his neck. It leaves him feeling vulnerable. Caught and on display – 

It’s so fucking hot. His dick keeps twitching every time Willy breathes near him, his hands clenching almost involuntarily as he leans into the pull of Willy’s hands. 

“Yes, what?” Willy asks, and there’s something fierce about it. “Hmm?” He continues, shaking Mitch a little. 

“Yes…” Mitch says, dragging it out a little. He’s unsure what Willy wants, but he also knows that he wants to give Willy whatever it is. He’s also sure that it’s going to be mortifying to say, and hot because of that. “Sir.” 

“Good _boy_,” Willy says. 

He yanks Mitch in for a kiss, deep and a little too wet for Mitch’s liking – but something about the fierce desperation behind it is unbelievably hot. 

“Get on the bed,” he says, when he pulls away. “I want to see you.” 

He lets Mitch go, but not before patting his cheek gently, both affectionate and condescending at the same time. Mitch flushes again, and scrambles towards the bed, his whole body thrumming with anticipation. 

“Fuck,” Willy says. “You’ve got a hot ass.” 

Mitch shivers, the praise making his stomach flutter. Presses his smile into the bedsheets. 

“Not as hot as yours,” he says into the covers, voice muffled by the material. “Yours is the hottest.” 

Willy laughs, crawling up onto the bed next to Mitch, and poking at him until he turns over. He presses a soft kiss to the underside of Mitch’s chin, before manoeuvring him where he wants him; hovers over Mitch and pulls Mitch’s legs until Mitch wraps them around him. 

Mitch can feel Willy’s dick pressed up against him and it just – 

Ignites something inside him. Makes him feel aching and desperate for something unnameable. 

“Willy, please,” he begs, shoving a hand up the back of Willy’s shirt and digging in a little; pulling him in closer with his legs and his hands. “_Please_.” 

“Yeah?” Willy murmurs, nipping at the skin at the base of Mitch’s neck, a sharp little shock followed by pleasure that makes Mitch shiver and moan. “What do you want, babe?” 

“Can I go down on you?” Mitch asks, and it feels breathless and desperate as it falls out of his mouth. It’s just –

He wants Willy in his mouth. Wants to give Willy something. Wants to have Willy’s hands in his hair; have Willy directing him. 

“Fuck yeah,” Willy breathes. “God, I knew you’d be like this. You can do what you want to me, baby.” 

Mitch grins. Reaches up to touch Willy’s face. Tucks a strand of Willy’s hair behind his ear. 

“I think you should get naked,” Willy says, already sitting up and yanking off his shirt. “It’ll make everything better. And easier,” he laughs.

Mitch sits up, yanking off his shirt and undoing his pants. He groans at the relief of it, his cock springing free. Kicks off his socks and underwear, and flushes as Willy looks at him appreciatively. 

“How do you want me?” Willy asks. “Standing or lying down?”

Mitch shrugs. When he’s like this, when his head gets like this, he doesn’t want to make decisions. He wants what Willy wants. Or, that’s not true. He thinks if he was surer of his own position in Willy’s life, he might be more vocal about what he wants. At least this way, he knows that whatever happens, Willy isn’t going to ditch him, because Willy did the choosing. But also, that he wants to give Willy what he wants. Wants to be good for Willy. Having an opinion feels hard; like he’s trying to think through a fog or a cloud. Thick and difficult, and he just wants to be told what to do.

“However you want it,” Mitch says, smiling at Willy.

Willy hisses, fisting a handful of Mitch’s hair and tugging almost furiously. 

“Fuck,” he says. “Your fucking smile.” 

He grips his cock, jacking off for a couple of strokes before forcibly stopping himself. 

“You’re something else, Mitchy.” 

Mitch smiles; reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind Willy’s ear. He feels soft; open and squishy in the middle. Thinks that Willy could ask anything of him, and he’d give it. Thinks that he wants to touch Willy gently; wants to know him, skin to skin. Wants to cradle Willy in his hands and care for him. Please him. 

“On your knees, then,” Willy continues. “Want a cushion?” 

Mitch’s brain feels slow, and he doesn’t know why that feels like a difficult question. He doesn’t want to have to decide. He shrugs, and presses his face into Willy’s hip. Mouths gently at the warm skin there. Let’s his tongue dart out for barely a second to lick at the salt-heat of it. 

“I think a cushion is a good idea,” Willy says softly. “Only the best for my good boy.” 

Mitch shrugs again, making a soft noise of protest as Willy pulls his head up gently. Makes eye contact with him. It almost feels like too much, Willy’s eyes hot and dark, and his mouth sharp-soft at the corners. 

“I’ll sit on the edge of the bed,” Willy says. “And I want to you kneeling. Want to see you. Watch you. You don’t know what it does to me, seeing you looking up at me through your eyelashes, all desperate and wanting. Fuck.” 

Mitch shivers, throat clicking. He doesn’t know why it feels so good to be described like that. Like he’s an object; something for the taking. 

“Willy,” he says, and it comes out like a moan. 

“Yeah, baby?” Willy whispers, tangling his hands in Mitch’s hair. “You want it, huh?” 

“Please,” Mitch says. 

He feels empty. Like he’s been waiting for years. His body is tingling, muscles clenching and unclenching involuntarily. He just wants Willy; Willy’s skin and Willy’s cock in his mouth. 

“Well, you can have it,” Willy says, spreading his legs, his cock thick and red between his legs. “But it might be easier if you’re on the floor, huh, babe?” 

He gestures to the floor beside the bed and winks. Mitch laughs, soft and open and –

“God,” Willy hisses, as Mitch climbs off the bed. “That fucking laugh.” 

His big hand comes to cradle Mitch’s face as Mitch settles in between his legs, and he grips Mitch’s chin; squeezes for a second as he squeezes his cock, and then lets go, breathing out and rolling his shoulders. 

“You’re gonna kill me, babe. Perfect thing.” 

Mitch smiles, heat and pleasure - and something softer and warmer - sparking under his skin. Presses a soft kiss to the inside of Willy’s thigh, and takes his nails up his calf. He knows what Willy likes by now, and it’s pretty simple. 

“Hey,” Willy prompts, catching Mitch’s chin again as he starts to rub his face on the inside of Willy’s thigh. “Give it a kiss, then.” 

And –

Mitch thinks it’s weird that he’s basically incapable of doing just that. It’s like Willy wants a tease, a soft kiss at the tip, and for Mitch to laugh. Say, ‘that’s what you meant, right’ and for Willy to call him a brat. But he just –

He wants too much. Wants to be good too badly. A kiss becomes a blowjob instantly. Mitch grips the base of Willy’s cock, sliding his mouth around the top, and runs his tongue around the head. 

Willy’s uncut, long and wide, and he feels hot in Mitch’s mouth; in his hand. He gets his other hand on Willy’s balls, just holding them, and Willy groans. Bends inwards at the waist and grabs at Mitch’s hair. The tug of it is sharp and a not-quite-pleasure that makes Mitch moan helplessly. 

“Fuck, you love it, don’t you?” Willy groans. “So good for me.” 

Mitch hums around Willy’s cock, jacking the base as he slides his tongue over the hot skin. Sinks further down until he’s almost, but not quite, choking, and licks. Pulls off, leaving a string of saliva between his mouth and Willy’s cock, and grins. 

“Good?” He asks, and it’s –

He knows it’s good, but he’s still asking. Needs the reassurance. Needs Willy’s praise.

“Baby,” Willy says, and it sounds thick in his mouth. “It’s so fucking good, you don’t even know. You’re so fucking good at this. Your mouth, bro. I have dreams about that mouth.” 

“Yeah?” Mitch asks. “You do?” 

“All the fucking time, man. All the fucking time.” 

Mitch grins, feeling a flush of pleasure flutter in his belly. Willy likes the way Mitch gives head. Fuck, yes. 

Mitch grins, feeling a flush of pleasure flutter in his belly. Willy likes the way Mitch gives head, and it’s amazing to hear. He stretches up on his knees a little; presses a kiss to Willy’s stomach, kisses down his body until Willy’s cock is bumping against Mitch’s chin. Takes it into his mouth and slides down as far as he can go; slides until it’s hitting the back of his throat and he has to pull off or gag. 

“Fuck,” Willy says. “Fucking fuck, Mitch. You’re gonna kill me, babe. So fucking hot. And you like it. You really like sucking my cock and that only makes it hotter.” He grasps Mitch’s chin. Pulls him up for a deep, tongue-thrusting kind of kiss, before pushing him back to his knees again. “I’m gonna face-fuck you, babe.” 

“Yeah,” Mitch breathes. “Fuck, Willy. Do it. Please.” 

Willy smirks, twisting a finger into the curl of hair just above Mitch’s ear, and tugs, hard. Grips Mitch’s face in hands and lets his cock bump up against Mitch’s lips. Mitch’s stomach feels twisted up, hot and fluttering, and his cheeks feel warm. He’s buzzing with it, and his own cock feels like it throbbing between his legs. There’s a part of him that wants to grind up against Willy’s thigh shamelessly; rut up against Willy until he comes everywhere, panting and relieved. Instead, he slides his mouth around Willy’s cock and lets it go a little slack. Willy shudders, and thrusts, and suddenly Mitch’s mouth is full; full with the thick heat and scent of Willy; with the weight of Willy on his tongue and the relentlessness of his thrusts. Willy’s careful not to go so deep that Mitch chokes, but it’s close. He’s breathing through his nose, trying to roll his tongue every so often, and it makes Willy groan every time he does. Above him, Willy is shaking. His eyes are so dark, and every time Mitch blinks up at him, he grips Mitch’s shoulders or twists his hands even tighter into Mitch’s hair. 

The whole thing sounds obscene. Wet and slick, a _schlock schlock schlock_ kind of sound that should be gross, but fuck. 

It gets Mitch, right in the stomach. Right in the dick. He feels like he’s burning up with it; with the sound of Willy moaning, and the wet, dirty sound of him using Mitch’s mouth. Mitch is practically squirming, trying to keep his head still as his hips rock helplessly against nothing. 

“I’m close,” Willy breathes. “Fuck, Mitch, I’m close. Where do you want it?” 

Mitch just hums. Closes his eyes and lets the feeling of Willy wash over him. Lets the heat build and build. 

“Mitch,” Willy says sharply, yanking his hair until he opens his eyes, the shock of it sending a heat-spike through him. “Where? In your mouth?” 

Mitch taps Willy’s thigh. Pulls off as Willy’s grip slackens. 

“On me,” he says. “I want you to coat me in come. Cover me in it.” 

“Jesus, Mitch, fuck. You’re gonna ruin me. You’re so fucking perfect. So perfect and mine. I’m gonna keep you forever.” 

Mitch shudders. Presses his face into Willy’s thigh. Fuck. He wants that. 

“Get on the bed,” Willy says. “On your back.” 

Mitch scrambles to obey, throwing himself across the bed, his head falling in the gap between the pillows. Willy shifts until he’s above Mitch. 

He’s all skin and muscle and his cock is so hard between his legs. He’s looking down at Mitch, and Mitch isn’t sure if Willy wants to eat him or fuck him. It’s intense and heated, and as he starts jacking himself, hand moving fast and wrist twisting, he falls forward, body almost covering Mitch’s entirely and it’s – 

It’s –

Mitch shudders. Groans, and comes. Falls over the edge into oblivion. 

He opens his eyes to see Willy – his mouth open, watching with so much heat and lust in his eyes that Mitch feels overwhelmed. His hand is moving so fast it almost seems like a blur, and Mitch smiles up at him, dopey and come-drunk. Gets a hand on Willy’s balls, and squeezes gently. 

“Please,” he says. “Willy. Come on me.” 

It’s that that seems to send Willy over the edge, hunching in on himself and groaning, come shooting up past Mitch’s ear, into his hair, over his chest and across his face. It’s warm, and a little bit gets into his mouth, salty and kind of bitter. Above him, Willy’s panting, chest heaving as he holds himself up. 

“Fuck,” he breathes. “That was fucking amazing.” 

Mitch grins. Slides a hand up Willy’s bicep. 

“Yeah. It really fucking was.” 

//

Willy offers Mitch a shower, afterwards. 

“Can I keep you company?” Willy asks, as soon as Mitch says yes. 

Mitch blinks. 

“In the shower with me? I don’t know if I can go again, Willy.”

Willy laughs. Bites gently at Mitch’s shoulder. 

“No,” he says. “I just want to chat to you.”

Mitch snorts. 

“I believe you,” he says. “But yes. Let’s do that. It sounds nice.” 

Willy tugs Mitch in close, his skin tacky with drying sweat, and wraps his arms tightly around him.

“You’re so fucking awesome,” he sighs into Mitch’s hair. “And always so good to me.” 

Mitch hums softly. Willy’s words make something go cold inside him. Makes his stomach twist and his heart shake. He tucks his face into Willy’s chest and just breathes for a minute. 

“You okay?” Willy asks, hand sweeping across Mitch’s back in a soft caress. 

“Yeah,” Mitch says. “Yeah, I’m good.” 

“Good,” Willy says, dropping a perfunctory kiss on Mitch’s head. “C’mon. Shower time.” 

He untangles himself from Mitch, rolls off the bed, turns to grab Mitch’s hand, and pulls him gently to his feet. Gets behind him and wraps him up in a bear hug, pressing his face into Mitch’s neck and walks him slowly towards the bathroom. It’s –

It’s a lot. A lot of naked skin pressed together, intimate in a different way to sex. Willy’s hands are huge and warm, and Mitch wants them to touch him for eternity. 

“I’ll switch the shower on,” Willy says, when Mitch shivers a little. The tile is cold beneath Mitch’s feet, and he feels like he’s hunching in on himself. “Should warm the room up a bit.”

“Thanks,” Mitch says, watching as Willy sorts the shower out. 

He feels a little awkward, standing naked in Willy’s bathroom. It’s nothing Willy hasn’t seen before, but it’s an odd, weirdly vulnerable moment. 

“Hey,” Willy says, touching Mitch’s hip. “The water’s warmed up.” 

He ushers Mitch towards the shower, before putting the toilet seat down and settling himself on top of it. 

“Is it too warm?” Willy asks. ““I know I like it hot enough to boil a lobster.”

Mitch laughs. Puts out a hand and hisses when the water hits his skin, scalding hot. 

“You shower in that?” He asks incredulously. “The showers at the rink must feel like an ice bath to you.” 

Willy laughs, head thrown back, and Mitch – 

It feels like his brain just… stops, for a second. 

“Nah, they’re all right,” Willy says. “Just not as hot as I’d like. I never feel properly clean unless I come out looking like I’ve been boiled.” 

Mitch twists the temperature gauge, waiting until the water shifts to a bearable heat. 

“Mm,” he hums. “That feels so much better.” 

Willy makes a soft, choked kind of noise in the back of his throat. Clears his throat. 

“Good,” he says, voice a little rough. 

Mitch blinks his eyes open, and catches Willy’s gaze. He looks a little sheepish but turned on, his eyes hot as he looks at Mitch under the shower. 

“If I could go again so soon, I’d fuck you,” he says. 

“I’d let you,” Mitch says, heat fizzling in his belly. 

“Oh, you’d let me, huh?” Willy asks. 

“I’d want you to,” Mitch amends, fingers tingling. 

Willy coughs. Closes his eyes for a second. Takes a deep breath, and when he opens them again, it’s like all the heat in his gaze has cooled. Or, not cooled, but been pushed to the back of his consciousness. 

“There’s shower gel behind you,” he says. “I think it’s seaweed?” 

“Thanks,” Mitch says. 

He washes perfunctorily, before switching the shower off and stepping out and grabbing the towel that Willy’s holding out. He wraps it round his waist, fumbling with it a little as Willy presses in close, kissing him softly and sliding a hand up the damp skin of Mitch’s back. 

“I’ll go and put some coffee on, yeah?” Willy says, when he pulls away. “See you in a minute.”

He grins. Nudges Mitch gently, before heading out the door, and – 

Mitch is left in the bathroom, slowly getting colder as the water dries on his skin. The tile makes the room feel weirdly echoic and lonely without Willy, like he took all the warmth with him when he left. 

//

Mitch is on an exercise bike at the arena when Willy drapes himself dramatically over Mitch’s back. Mitch is just glad that Coach isn’t around to see. He’s pretty sure both him and Willy would get ripped a new one. As it is, he stops pedalling, and lets himself relax under the stretch of Willy’s warm body over him. It’s a surprise, to have him here, but a welcome one. 

“Mitch,” Willy whines. “Everything is terrible.”

“Uh-huh,” Mitch says, used to Willy’s hyperbole. “Everything, huh?”

It’s frustrating that he finds this cute. In anyone else, it would probably drive him up the wall. 

“Yup,” Willy says, popping the p decidedly. “I miss being in a relationship.”

And all the good feeling Mitch was feeling just disappears; leeches out of him as his stomach drops, and he’s left feeling cold and empty again. 

“Right,” he says. “Okay.” 

He’s not really sure what Willy wants from him here. 

“You don’t get it,” Willy sighs. “It’s the worst. I’m lonely.”

Mitch clenches his fingers tight around the handles of the bike; his fingers going white. Takes a deep breath. Pastes on a smile. 

“You’ll get to see your other fuck-buddy next week,” he says. “You said they were coming to visit.”

Willy presses his face into Mitch’s neck, and Mitch grimaces. Tries not to hold onto any kind of emotion.

“He is,” Willy says. “It just sucks that I can’t like. Have someone with me all the time.”

It’s stupid, but it’s also really hurtful. That Willy doesn’t value Mitch’s existence. That what they do together doesn’t mean anything, even though Willy acts like they’re in a relationship half the time. Even now, draped over Mitch, mouth pressed to Mitch’s skin as he talks about how lonely he is –

It’s fucking with Mitch’s head. 

With his heart. 

//

Auston’s take on the whole thing is – 

“He’s an asshole,” he says, nose scrunching up. “He’s a great guy on the ice, but this whole thing. It’s fucked, man. He’s fucking you around.” 

“It’s not -” Mitch starts.

“Bro,” Auston interjects; reaches out to touch Mitch’s wrist gently. “He’s messing with you. He says it’s just fucking, but then he’s like. Taking you on fucking dates. Takes you to dinner and to the movies. Strokes your hair and calls you pet names. Asks for things from you that a boyfriend would give. And then – and then he gets fucking offended when you try and hold his hand when he hasn’t initiated it. It’s fucked, bro. Absolutely fucked.”

“I don’t know how to stop,” Mitch says. His mouth feels dry. “I keep saying I’m not going to do this anymore, and then he – he looks at me, and I’m kissing him all over again. Staying overnight and waking up to him, and I don’t – how the fuck am I supposed to let him go when he’s what I want?” 

“Mitchy,” Auston says, voice thick with something Mitch can’t name. “You know… you know you deserve more than that, right? That you can want more than that?” 

Mitch swallows. His stomach feels tight, twisted and heavy. He doesn’t know how to say that it feels like –

Like Willy might be the best he ever gets, and he doesn’t want to let go. Doesn’t want to be left on his own. 

“Bro,” Auston says. “Fuck. He’s really done a number on you.”

Mitch snorts. Shrugs. 

“I don’t think it was all him,” he says. “It’s at least partly me. I’ve accepted the love I think I deserve and all that.” 

And – 

Auston just looks at him. Looks and looks and looks, and he looks so sad.

//

Willy takes Mitch out on a date, and it’s – 

A lot. 

Spring is just bubbling to the surface, birds beginning to chirp and trees just beginning to bud. It makes Mitch feel happy; softer under the surface. The sun is shining, the heat of it weak, but nice after months of cold weather. 

“This is cute,” Mitch says, grinning at Willy as he rolls up his sleeves. 

“Yeah,” Willy says. “And so are you.” 

Mitch laughs, bumping his shoulder against Willy’s companionably. 

“I wanted you to like it,” Willy says. “I want you to feel special, you know. You mean a lot to me, and we don’t get much time outside of hockey.”

Mitch’s stomach twists; he doesn’t know what to say. Because, it’s true, they don’t get much time outside of hockey, but it would be enough for a friendship. They see each other at practice and at games and a lot of time in between, but if they were dating, it wouldn’t be enough. It’s odd, this way that Willy seems to swing wildly between declaring that they’re dating, and being excessively romantic for where he’d declared the boundaries were, to disinterested and distant, pushing Mitch away like he’s the one who’s trying to shift the boundaries, and get closer than Willy wants him to. It’s frustrating, because Mitch doesn’t know where he stands. He just wishes it was consistent. That it was either consistently friends with benefits, or consistently dating. Instead, he’s stuck in this weird limbo, where he’s never sure what he’s going to get. Never sure how Willy is going to react to anything he says. 

“That’s true,” Mitch says softly, shrugging. “Guess we get a lot of hockey time, though.” 

Willy wrinkles his nose, tangling his little finger with Mitch’s. 

“Not the kind of time that I really want to spend with you,” he says. “I just want to be able to cuddle you all the time. Hold your hand and hang out. You’re so fucking cute.” 

Mitch can’t help the shiver of pleasure that runs under his skin; it’s nice to be told that Willy likes him and wants something from him, even if it isn’t consistent or helpful. 

“I do like a good cuddle,” Mitch agrees, squeezing Willy’s finger gently. “You’re quite bony, though,” he says. 

“What?” Willy asks, aghast. “How dare you? This,” he continues, gesturing at his body. “Is pure muscle, bro.” 

Mitch laughs, ducking out the way as Willy tries to pull him into a headlock. Willy is laughing too, practically chasing after Mitch as he dodges out the way. They’re both so busy flirting that they don’t see the small hill next to them, and they end up tripping and rolling down it; end up at the bottom of the hill. Willy’s body is over Mitch’s warm and breathless, his chest heaving and his hair framing his face. His breath is warm against Mitch’s face, and it should be disgusting, but it isn’t. Mitch – 

He feels overwhelmed, a little. Fuck, but he likes Willy so much. Reaches up with shaking hands, and cradles Willy’s face in his hands. Traces the jut of his jaw with soft fingers, as Willy breathes above him, shaky and responsive. It’s barely a minute before Mitch sees Willy get impatient; growl softly and lean in to kiss Mitch thoroughly, hands planted in the soil either side of Mitch’s head. They make out, Willy soft but insistent, and Mitch melting under him, skin warm and hips tight against Willy’s. It feels soft and slow, and burning a little. He’s not so horny he can’t think, but arousal is simmering in the background, warm and slightly itchy under his skin. 

“You’re my favourite Toronto boy,” Willy says, as he pulls away. Tugs gently on Mitch’s bangs. “So fucking hot.” 

Mitch huffs our a laugh, and let’s Willy pull him to his feet once he’s upright again. Once they’re both standing, and have brushed off the worst of the mud and twigs, Willy reaches out and takes Mitch’s hand in his own. His skin is warm and soft, and he swings their arms between them, smiling softly at Mitch every so often when their eyes meet. 

He ends up taking Mitch to a little café nearby, one that Mitch has never been to before. It’s a lot of tea and cake and weird bread things that Mitch is vaguely suspicious of. Nice, though. The atmosphere is cosy, and it’s warm. Mitch feels a little windswept – and kiss-swept – so it’s nice to warm up, his cheeks still pink with windburn and beard burn. Under the table, Willy has twisted their feet together, and he keeps smiling at Mitch over the table, something both fond and intense in his eyes. 

“I’ve had a really nice day,” Mitch says, when he can’t keep it in any longer. He feels full and happy and warm, and he doesn’t know how not to tell Willy how he feels. It feels like it’s bursting out of him, desperate and needy. “You’ve made it a really nice day, dude.” 

“I’m glad,” Willy says, grinning. “Anything for my best guy,” he adds with a wink. His leg slides between Mitch’s thighs under the table as his eyes meet Mitch’s. They’re dark and hot and staring at Mitch like he wants to devour him. He has a little bit of icing at the corner of his mouth, and Mitch wants to lick it off. Wants to press even closer, rub off against Willy’s thigh. Wants to feel close; covered in Willy. 

“Best guy until someone else comes along,” Mitch snorts, but he can’t help the way that he still feels kind of special. 

“Nobody could replace you, baby,” Willy says, and – 

It’s almost like he’s going for funny, but there’s too much heat behind the words for it to be funny. Instead it just sounds like… the truth. 

Mitch can feel himself blushing, and he ducks his head. Plays with the edge of his napkin and swallows. He’s never normally like this; never this bashful. Never this unsure of his place with someone, and he hates it. Hates to feel like he’s not on steady footing with himself even. Doesn’t know what he wants, except more. 

“Ha,” he opts for, not sure what else there is to say. 

Willy grins. Flicks his hair and nudges his thigh tighter between Mitch’s. 

“Want to come back to mine?” He asks, and –

Of course, Mitch says yes. Lets Willy drive him back to his place, tension thrumming between them. Willy’s put some kind of horrible Swedish techno on, and it’s making Mitch’s heart go about twice the speed that it would be anyway. He feels like he’s burnt off all of everything he’s just eaten, his blood thrumming and his skin humming. He just wants. In the driver’s seat, Willy’s hands are tight on the steering wheel, his arms tense, the muscle standing out clear as he breathes over-steadily. Mitch reaches out with a shaky hand, and it feels like he’s moving through treacle, the nerves building strong, and places it high on Willy’s thigh; Willy lets out a soft, broken kind of sound, his thigh tensing as he shifts in the driver’s seat. 

Mitch’s whole body feels hot, his dick hard in his pants, and all he wants is to touch Willy’s skin. Feel the warmth of it; feel him sweat. 

“Fuck,” Willy says, as he pulls into the drive. “Fuck, Mitch.”

They scramble out the car, Willy practically pushing Mitch up to the door with a firm hand on his back. He unlocks the door from behind Mitch, his front pressed up against Mitch’s back, his cock hard against Mitch’s ass. Mitch groans a little, wiggles back into Willy, who hisses, fumbles with the keys, shoving at the door until it opens. 

“It always fucking sticks,” he says, almost breathlessly, corralling Mitch further into the hall. 

Mitch tugs his coat off, then bends down to undo his shoe laces. Behind him, Willy makes a noise, and grabs a handful of Mitch’s ass, tight and almost bruising, and it makes something light up inside Mitch, hot and insistent in his belly. 

“Fuck, your ass is so fucking hot,” Willy hisses. “You’re so fucking hot. I just want to be in you.” 

Mitch can’t help the noise that escapes, Willy painting a visceral and desperate picture. He wants to get fucked. Want to feel Willy inside him, big and thick, that first push just on the edge of painful. Wants to feel it now and feel it later. Wants to be walking, and feel it. To taste it in the bruises on his skin, and know that’s he been owned. 

“So do it,” Mitch moans. “Just stick it in me, fuck.” 

Willy groans, pulls Mitch back by his ass, flush against Willy’s hips as he humps at him desperately. 

“Like I have the patience for that,” Willy says. “Like you have the patience for that. I know you love my dick,” he says, grabbing Mitch’s cock through his pants. “But you might have to wait for a second wind. There’s no way either of us can put up with the prep this time.” 

Mitch moans. 

“Stop being so fucking sensible,” he says. “Willy, please. I just want to come. I want you to come. Come on me. In me. If you won’t fuck me, then cover me in your come.” 

Willy makes a noise, deep and breathless, and he spins Mitch round in his arms. He looks overwhelmed, skin pink and his eyes so dark. His mouth looks flushed, like he’s been biting at his lip, and his shoulders look so wide. Mitch wants him so much; wants to be fucked by him so much it feels like it’s eating him up inside. 

“Please,” he says. “Please.” 

Willy growls; pulls Mitch in for a deep kiss, tongue almost rammed down Mitch’s throat for a second, before he pulls back, softens it just enough to be pleasurable again.

“Just – Fuck my thighs. Fuck me however you want.” 

“Yeah,” Willy says, and it sounds like gravel. “Fuck, yeah.” 

He pushes Mitch until his back smacks against the wall, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to shock him a little, cock jumping in his pants. He’s so hard, and he wants so much. Feels desperate with it, and he just wants Willy to take him. Own him. 

Willy’s hands slap against the wall either side of Mitch’s head, his body heat leaking all over Mitch as he leans in; kisses Mitch. Mitch feels devoured; head falling back against the wall as Willy kisses and kisses him, mouth hot and teeth a little sharp. Mitch can’t help the way he’s moaning, soft and dripping from his mouth; muffled into Willy’s mouth. His hips keep jumping, rutting into Willy’s, who grinds down against him, and it’s just so much. 

“Willy,” he says, between breaths. Between kisses. “Willy, please.” 

“I’ve got you,” Willy says. 

With his eyes open, all Mitch can see is Willy. He’s barricaded in by Willy’s body and there’s something unbelievably hot about it. Willy’s still wearing his knitted sweater, pulling tight across the shoulders and hugging his arms and his torso. Willy’s face is so close, and his hair is blocking out anything but the two of them. Mitch groans; slides a thigh between Willy’s. Arches his back. Lets his eyes flutter shut. 

“Hey,” Willy says, fisting at Mitch’s hair and pulling right. “Babe. Look at me.” 

Mitch whines, the sharp not-quite-pain of his hair making something fizz and tighten in his belly. Opens his eyes; gasps at Willy; at his eyes and mouth and face. He looks so intense, eyes heavy lidded and his mouth red from kissing Mitch. 

“Good boy,” he says. 

And –

Just hearing that makes Mitch desperate; sparks something unassailable inside him, and he’s pushing forwards, rubbing up against Willy desperately, moans falling from his mouth, loud and embarrassing. He doesn’t know how to stop; chasing the heat desperately. Willy growls, shoves a hand deeper into Mitch’s hair and bites at the skin of Mitch’s neck. It’s a stinging kind of almost pain, and it makes Mitch feel crazy. Wound up tight and breathless. 

“Willy,” he says. “Willy, please. Willy. Please.” 

He’s not even really sure what he’s saying anymore; doesn’t know how to listen to the words coming from his mouth. He’s just making noise; little _uh-uh-uh_ noises that spill from him unconsciously. His hands are gripping Willy’s back; digging in, twisting in the material and his legs are almost wrapped around Willy’s waist at this point, the wall holding him up as he ruts against Willy’s thigh. It’s not quite enough to get him close, but with the way Willy feels against him, it’s getting him there anyway. He feels so hot, like he’s burning up from the insides, and his legs don’t know whether to tighten or fall wider; whether to hold Willy closer or give him room to manoeuvre. 

“Come on,” Willy hisses, pulling Mitch’s head to the side and dragging his lips up the length of Mitch’s neck. “Come for me, baby.” 

He gets a hand between them; presses up against Mitch’s cock. Squeezes. Mitch whines, high and desperate, and – 

And –

Shakes as he comes, desperate and overwhelming and a little too much, cock so sensitive and body so sensitive. Feels like a bruise, tender and too much. 

“Fuck,” he breathes. “Fucking fuck.” 

He lets his head fall back against the wall, breathing heavily, as Willy’s hips jerk. Ruts jerkily and desperately against Mitch until he groans, heat flooding between them. He’s panting, Willy’s hand propping Mitch up against the wall, and he buries his face in Mitch’s neck. His breath is warm and slightly damp against Mitch’s skin, and it’s intimate and a lot. It’s good. Good, and also kind of sucky, because there’s come cooling in Mitch’s pants, and – 

And Willy pushes away from him. Grins. Presses a smacking kiss to the side of Mitch’s head. 

“That was great,” he says. “I definitely need a shower after that though.” 

Mitch still feels kind of dazed. Nods and shrugs. 

“You can take the downstairs bathroom,” Willy says. “I’ll put a towel in there for you. I’ll put the coffee machine on too, for when we get out.” 

He throws a grin over his shoulder as he leaves, and Mitch –

Mitch is left in the entryway, come cooling in his pants, breathing just beginning to slow, and it’s –

It’s really fucking lonely. 

//

Mitch –

Mitch tells himself that it’s enough. That he doesn’t want to do this anymore. But then Willy smiles at him across the locker room. Winks, and jerks his head towards the door, and Mitch finds himself smiling back. Finds his stomach jumping with nervous anticipation. Follows Willy out, and ends up back at his place, the first time he’s brought Willy back since they started doing this. 

“Do you want a drink?” He offers.

“No, that’s okay,” Willy says. “I just want – I want to kiss you.” 

Mitch smiles, something warm wriggling in his belly. 

“So kiss me,” he says. 

Willy laughs. Steps forwards and takes Mitch’s face in his big hands. The skin of them is warm against Mitch’s, his thumbs brushing Mitch’s cheeks, and it’s a lot. Slow, in a way that Willy isn’t often. That neither of them often are. Willy’s breath is warm over Mitch’s nose, and there’s an odd kind of tension in the air. Not a desperation, as it often is with them. Not a need to fuck, but a –

An intimacy. Willy’s eyes are still open, and it’s just –

Like Mitch can’t shut his own. There’s too much; like they’re talking to each other with no words. Willy’s looking at him, and it feels like he can see the inside of Mitch. Like he knows the intimate, softest, most vulnerable parts of Mitch, and he loves him for them. There’s a pause, a moment, and Willy moves in, moving so slowly and hands shaking a little on Mitch’s skin. Tilts his head a little, and then his mouth meets Mitch’s, warm and soft, and they’re kissing. Kissing and kissing, but not like they’ve ever kissed before. They’re kissing like they know each other. Like there’s nothing but them, slow and heated, a glide of heat and affection, and Mitch feels too big for his body. Like he’s swelling with the emotion of it all; growing to big for himself. Swallowing the love that Willy is pouring between them. 

“Hey,” Willy says, when he pulls away. “Bed?” 

Mitch nods. Smiles, but it feels a little shaky at the corners. Reaches out to tuck a lock of Willy’s hair behind his ear. It’s hard to look at him. He feels so much; so – 

He’s never understood, before, what its like to feel like you love someone. Like you’d do anything for them. Like one smile from them would make anything better. He feels swollen with affection, and he isn’t really sure how to cope; how he’s supposed to carry this with him. 

“Yeah,” he says, and it comes out so soft. Like he’s afraid to break the moment. “Bed sounds good.” 

And it –

Willy takes his hand, and it’s gentle. Leads Mitch towards the stairs, looking over his shoulder every so often, something soft and heavy in his gaze. Mitch lets himself be led, heart thumping so loudly in his chest. It feels syrupy and weird; like they’re half a second out of time with the rest of the world. Like everything but Willy is blurry and out of focus. It’s not a rush; he’s doesn’t want to shove Willy up against a wall and kiss him. Doesn’t want to be taken, owned and fucked. It feels like – 

Like it’s leading somewhere new. 

They get to Willy’s room, and there’s this moment where they’re both kind of hovering, unsure about where to go next. And then Willy is unbuttoning Mitch’s shirt, his hands gentle and his eyes hot. His hands touch skin every few buttons, sliding against the skin of Mitch’s chest, warm and kind of arresting. Mitch feels like he’s barely breathing, trembling as Willy touches him like he’s made of glass. 

“You’re beautiful,” Willy says, and it’s rough. 

Mitch swallows. His heart feels too big for his body. He has no idea how to answer that. Doesn’t know what to say, except thank you. 

“Willy,” is all he manages, scratching against the back of his throat. 

Willy smiles, full of a tender kind of fondness that makes Mitch’s breath catch in his throat. 

“I think maybe,” Willy says. “We should get naked.” 

Mitch shivers. It’s – 

The two of them are usually so full of energy. Laughter and smiles, but this is so serious. Quiet and the room feels like it’s both too big and small. He just wants to feel Willy’s skin on his; feel Willy over him. In him. A part of him. Wants to become one entity. 

“I want that,” Mitch says. “Want to see you.” 

Willy hisses; presses in for a hard kiss that soften almost instantly, his hands burying themselves in Mitch’s hair as he kisses and kisses Mitch. Kisses Mitch like he’s dying, and Mitch is his air. Like Mitch is giving him something that no one else can. Like Mitch is – 

Like he adores Mitch. 

It doesn’t take them long to get out of their clothes, strewn around the room in various places when they’re kicked off. Mitch thinks that one of his socks might be on the lampshade, but at this point – 

It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. Willy gathers him in with warm, firm arms, and lays Mitch down on the bed like he’s something precious. Touches him. Looks at him, and Mitch has never felt so cherished. It’s like Willy is categorising every inch of him; memorising him. Like his eyes are loving him. 

“You look so fucking gorgeous spread out for me like this,” Willy says. 

It’s so soft, like he doesn’t want to break the moment. Break the silence. His eyes are roaming Mitch’s body, and it makes Mitch want to spread out; sink into the mattress and feel. Feel everything. It’s like his skin feels more sensitive; like there’s nothing but heat and air and Willy. 

“Are you going to fuck me?” Mitch asks. “I want you to fuck me.” 

Willy moans, low and heavy, and presses in for another kiss, his hair tickling the side of Mitch’s face. 

“I’m going to fucking make love to you,” he says. “I can’t – shit, Mitch. I want you so much. I like you so fucking much.” 

Mitch shivers, his skin flushing hot then cold. He feels covered in goose pimples, and it’s a lot. 

“I like you too,” Mitch whispers into Willy’s hair. 

It feels like a confession; like he’s revealing himself, but it doesn’t feel scary. Just feels natural. A release of vulnerability. 

Willy reaches for the lube. Slicks up his fingers, and presses in; starts with two because he knows that’s what Mitch likes. It’s a stretch, and a burn, but the right kind of burn. The feeling of it is so huge; like he’s admitting something huge. Willy’s fingers are firm but gentle, opening him up like he’s something to be cherished. Not delicate, but loved. There’s so much lube everywhere, and Mitch is dropping precome. He feels hot; so hot, his skin burning, Willy’s fingers burning, his body burning, and he doesn’t know how to pull it inwards. He feels like he’s stretching outwards; wrapping himself up in Willy. In Willy’s hands and his arms and his hair. All he can see is Willy; all he can hear is himself, moaning quietly, and Willy’s breathing. The sound of Willy finger-fucking him. It feels intimate in a way that Mitch isn’t sure he’d be able to describe to anyone else. He feels known; adored. Never felt so seen; feels like he’s been cracked open, and nothing’s off limits. Like there’s no secrets anymore. That his heart is Willy’s and it always has been, but it’s okay, because Willy is looking at him just the same. 

When Willy pushes in, his cock hot and thick, Mitch lets out a gasp, unintentional but – 

It’s so much. Something about having Willy inside him, hot and there, his hands braced either side of Mitch. It’s having him fully seated inside Mitch, his skin touching Mitch’s skin; his eyes so hot, meeting Mitch’s gaze, and Mitch has never felt intimacy like this. Willy is over him and inside him, and Mitch has never been closer to a person before. Never felt this way before. They’re breathing together, and Willy grabs Mitch’s hands; tangles his fingers with Mitch’s and holds on. Breathes out a shaky breath. Shifts slightly, and Mitch moans. 

He can’t stop looking at Willy; can’t stop the eye contact. They’re looking at each other, and there’s so much silence; just their breathing, chests touching and Mitch feels flayed open; bared and vulnerable. Willy rocks his hips; slowly. Grinds in, and it’s so slow. So much. Inexorable and enormous; feels like the pleasure is deep, like a river. Like water flowing through a mountain. Like Mitch’s limbs are floating in heat, barely building, but still overwhelming. 

It’s gentle, and it’s sweet, and it makes Mitch feel weird. He keeps touching Willy’s face; and he feels so full, physically, but also emotionally. Like he’s full of everything, swelling under his skin, and Willy smiles down at him, and Mitch smiles back, and they kiss, and it’s like something cracks inside him, and suddenly he’s crying and he doesn’t know why. 

“Mitch,” Willy says, pulling out. “Fuck, Mitch, are you okay?” 

He gathers Mitch up in his arms, warm and broad, and Mitch presses his face into Willy’s chest. He can’t stop crying, and he hates it. It feels like too much, emotional and vulnerable, neither of which he particularly wants to be around Willy. He doesn’t want to open that can of worms; once he has it, he’ll want it again. 

“I don’t know,” Mitch says. His voice is muffled into Willy’s skin. “This is so stupid, I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” Willy soothes, stroking Mitch’s hair as he pulls Mitch in even closer. “I get it. It was a lot. Intimacy can be scary, and this was the most intimate I think two people can be. We shared something special. I haven’t had this with many people; it’s not something you can force, or create. It just happens, when the timing is right, and with the right people.”

“Yeah,” Mitch says.

It feels like tears won’t stop coming. They’re not ugly, sobbing tears, but instead it’s just himself, but his eyes won’t stop leaking. Rolling down his cheeks, and there’s nothing he can do to stop them.

“Just let it out,” Willy says. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

And, no, Mitch doesn’t want to talk about. It’s half overwhelmed feelings, like Willy said, but half of it is – 

It’s like his thoughts are a stuck record, scratching again and again. He’s never going to love me, Mitch thinks. He’s never going to love me. He’s never going to love me. He had no idea that he wanted it this desperately, but it feels like his heart is breaking. Like he’s falling apart at the seams. It feels like he got the barest taste of what it might be like to be loved by Willy, and now he knows he’s never going to get that for real. 

“I don’t really know,” Mitch says. 

It’s hard, because he does want to talk to Willy. Wishes he could share all of his feelings with Willy, but that’s –

Willy asks for them. Gives his own feelings over too. But it doesn’t feel fair. They’re not in the kind of relationship where Mitch feels like that’s reasonable. Friends with benefits is about fucking. It’s not about sharing and caring. It’s not about loving that person. Not about being in love, but the things that Willy asks for feel like the kind of things that a boyfriend asks for. 

“You don’t have to,” Willy murmurs. “But you know I’m here for you.” 

“I know,” Mitch whispers. 

He breathes in, deep. It’s shaky, but he feels like he’s pulling himself together a little. 

“I’m fine,” he says. “It was just a lot. Emotionally, a lot.” 

Willy smiles. Squeezes him tighter. 

“I get that. We can just cuddle for a bit. Chill out, hey?” 

Mitch smiles. It feels a little stiff at the corners, but Willy seems to take it at the emotional face value. Doesn’t seem to either want to, or be able, to read under the surface. 

“Are you okay, though?” Willy asks. “I know you pretty well, babe, but I’m not inside your head.” 

And – 

Mitch isn’t, really, but he’s okay enough. It’s not something that could ever be solved in this moment, anyway. Not unless he has a conversation that he really doesn’t want to have. 

“Yeah,” he says. 

Leaning over him, Willy tugs him until he can look Mitch in the eye, something warm and concerned in his gaze. It feels even more intimate; awful and revealing, and Mitch’s bottom lip wobbles again. Willy makes a soft noise; tucks a short strand of hair behind Mitch’s ear, and just…. Looks at him. 

“I like you,” Willy says softly. “You know that, right? That there’s nothing you need to do differently. That you’re enough.” 

“I know,” Mitch whispers. “I know.” 

It feels like Mitch’s heart is cracking; tearing in two, but he just nods. Smiles. Tucks himself against Willy, lets skin touch skin, and tries not to think about anything at all. Falls asleep to the sound of Willy’s steady breathing and his steady heartbeat, their legs tangled and his ear on Willy’s chest. 

//

Mitch walks into the locker room, and it goes absolutely silent.

“Um,” he says, dumping his bag by his locker. 

There’s a pause. The soft rustle of a room full of people. 

“Fuck this,” Zach says, spitting on the floor. “I’m out.” 

He pushes out of the room, making sure to knock into Willy on his way out. It feels even quieter when he’s gone.

“What’s going on?” Mitch asks, gaze swinging between Willy and the rest of the room. “Guys?” 

“Willy was just telling us about -” Freddie starts, before Mo elbows him in the gut, cutting him off. 

Willy sighs. Rolls his eyes at Mo.

“I was just talking about this guy I hooked up with,” Willy says, shrugging. “I don’t know why everyone’s being so fucking weird.” 

And - 

It feels like all the air has the left the room. It’s a little like being drunk, his head full of static. Everything sounds like it’s underwater; distant and wobbly.

“What?” He says, but it comes out like a whisper.

“Yeah,” Willy continues. “I met this guy at a bar last night, and let me tell you. He was an absolute firework in bed.” 

Mitch swallows hard. His limbs feel too heavy, and the skin feels tight. 

“Right,” he says. “Great.” 

He turns to his locker. Shoves some tape in his bag. Swallows again. It feels like the whole team are watching him, and he has no idea what to do. 

“That’s great, Willy,” he says as he turns back to the room. Tries to smile, but he’s pretty sure it just looks painful. “See you guys on the ice.” 

He hasn’t even got his skates on, but he needs to not be here right now. The corridors feel too small, so he walks. Walks and walks until he’s outside, the air freezing and clear. Breathes until it feels less like he’s falling apart at the seams. 

//

Mitch ends up in bed with Willy again, but this time it’s –

Normally, if they’re in bed, they’re fucking. The talking comes after, when the sweat is cooling and there’s a wet spot on the sheets. This time, though, Willy seems to want –

Mitch doesn’t even really know, but somehow it ends up with them lying next to each other as Willy talks. Talks about his hockey worries. Worries about being traded. Worries about his family, and how hard it is to be stuck between Sweden and America. And –

“I’m just – I’m worried about you,” Willy says. 

His back is to Mitch, his face pressed into his pillow, muffling his voice, and he’s curved away from Mitch. 

“Worried about me how?” Mitch asks, reaching out to stroke the breadth of Willy’s back. “You don’t need to be worried about me.” 

“I’m worried about this ‘friends with benefits’ thing. Everyone says that someone always ends up getting hurt, and I worry about hurting you.” 

It feels like an awful kick to the gut. Mitch is both hurt and angry at the same time. Hurt, because Willy’s making a point to remind Mitch, yet again, that he doesn’t want a romantic relationship, despite asking for things from Mitch that should be accompanied by romantic declarations. And, he’s annoyed with himself for still hoping for more, even though he knows he’ll never get it. Angry with Willy for assuming he has no autonomy. If Mitch gets hurt, obviously it’s partly Willy’s fault, but his concerns make it seems like Mitch is incapable of making decisions. Like he’s here for Willy and only Willy, and is clearly unable to decide that something is too much for him. 

Mitch doesn’t say any of that, though. Just sweeps his thumb over Willy’s scapula and sighs. 

“You don’t need to worry about me. I’m a big boy. If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be.”

Willy sighs, and Mitch can tell he’s scrunching his nose up even though he’s facing the other way. He’s leaking heat, and all Mitch can smell is warm sheets and Willy’s skin. It feels a little claustrophobic, even as all he wants to do is bury is nose in Willy’s hair; in Willy’s back. 

“I guess,” Willy says. “It’s just that I care about you. I don’t want to think about hurting you.” 

There’s a part of Mitch that wants to scream. Wants to roll Willy over and yell in his face “so don’t.” But, he’s –

Fuck, he can’t. Instead, he just sighs. Presses a kiss to the back of Willy’s neck. 

“I’m sorry then, I guess. I don’t want to add to your stress. You just need to trust that I can make these decisions for myself. You can’t try and predict what I’m thinking because you’re not in my head with me. You can only go with what I’m saying, and take it as truth. Which it is,” Mitch tacks on, trying not to feel like he’s lying through his teeth. 

“That’s true,” Willy mumbles, and Mitch – 

Mitch sighs again. He’s tired of this. He just wants the moments where he feels cradled in Willy’s arms. Just wants the moments where he feels safe, loved and cherished. And, the thing is, Mitch would take a lot from Willy if it felt reciprocal. If he felt confident and stable in his relationship with Willy. 

Instead, it just feels like he’s carrying Willy’s emotions so that he can have a hand to hold. A body to fuck. Because Mitch has never felt tenderness quite like it, and he wants more. Because he’s never been touched like this before, and he needs it. This thing with Willy is Mitch’s Pandora’s box, and there’s no way he can put any of these desires back now. 

“I’m going to miss you when you get a boyfriend,” Willy says softly, and – 

Mitch has this moment where he wants to slap him. Willy has no business saying this stuff to him, especially not when he’s made it clear that Mitch isn’t a priority. 

“Sure,” Mitch snorts. 

“I will,” Willy insists. Like it’s obvious. Like Mitch should just know. “I like you. You’re too good to me.”

Mitch never knows what to say when he says that. Because he is. He is too good to Willy, and he knows that Willy treats him terribly. That his self-worth should be more than this. 

“I like you too,” Mitch says, mouth pressed against Willy’s back. Tries not to make it clear just how much he likes Willy. 

“You deserve so much more than I can give you,” Willy says, rolling over gently and pulling Mitch in until his skin is mashed up against Willy’s, his face pressed into Willy’s collar bone, Willy’s arms wrapped around him, and – it’s a lot. Mitch’s senses are full of Willy. He can smell the remnants of his cologne, and underneath, the soft, skin smell of him. Willy’s hands are huge on Mitch’s body, and he has to close his eyes; breathe deeply for a minute to cope with the sudden influx of feeling. He doesn’t want to name the emotion, but it feels warm and painful and huge, and it’s not –

It’s not falling off a cliff, but it’s falling. 

//

Mitch meets up with Dylan over the summer, and it’s - 

Sometimes it feels so strange that they used to hate each other. Dylan’s one of his closest friends, now. 

“Hey bro,” Dylan says, pulling Mitch into a tight hug as soon as he opens the door. “Good to see you.”

“Yeah,” Mitch says, sinking into Dylan’s bony embrace just a little. “You too.” 

He pulls away, and they fist bump like the embarrassments they are. 

“Coffee?” Dylan asks, ushering Mitch into the apartment. “Or beer? Or like. Water? I don’t know what I have in the fridge, actually, dude. Let me check.” 

“Coffee’s fine,” Mitch says, shrugging out of his coat and hanging it on the rack. “Bit early for beer, dude.” 

“Never too early for beer,” Dylan laughs, but shrugs in half agreement anyway. “Fair. So, how you been, man? Connor said something about boy trouble? Figure we should start with the hard shit and then move on to games later to pretend like we don’t have emotions or whatever.” 

Mitch laughs, and it feels a little like he’s shrugging off some of his stress. He forgets how much he appreciates spending time with Dylan until he gets to again. Dylan can be an intense kind of dude, but he also makes Mitch laugh a lot, and he knows exactly what to say to make Mitch feel at ease. 

“I guess,” Mitch says. “I’m definitely going to need a coffee if we’re talking about this though.” 

“I can do coffee for sure,” Dylan says. 

He drags Mitch into the kitchen, shoving him into a bar stool while he fills the coffee pot with water and sticks the machine on. He grabs the milk from the fridge; in the background the machine makes hissing, loud noises and Mitch laughs. Dylan shrugs, pulling out a stool next to Mitch and slinging an arm over him. Squeezes him against his side and presses a soft kiss to Mitch’s hair. 

“You okay?” He asks, and -

Mitch hates that question, because it hits something inside him. Hits the deep, tender, painful part of him that sits behind his belly. 

“Mm,” he shrugs. 

“Yeah,” Dylan snorts. “I’m gonna take that as a no, dude.” 

“Probably an accurate assumption,” Mitch says, laughing a little. Rubs at his face. “Fuck.” 

It feels like being hit with a wave of exhaustion, to admit that to himself. To acknowledge that things aren’t great. 

Dylan squeezes him, before getting up to pour the coffee into two huge mugs. Hands one to Mitch, then tugs him towards the couch. Manoeuvres them both until Mitch is lying with his head in Dylan’s lap, and his hands are carding through Mitch’s hair. His fingers are soft and his thighs are sturdy, and Mitch feels his body go lax. Let’s some of the weight he’s being carrying slip away. Tries not to feel like he might cry. 

“I love him,” he says, and it catches in his throat. “Fuck. Fuck. I hate talking about this.” 

Dylan makes a soft noise in the back of his throat. Tugs gently on Mitch’s hair. 

“I know,” he murmurs. “You don’t have to. But if it might even be a little bit helpful, then...” 

Mitch laughs a little, and it sounds wet. He feels restless; turns so he can press his face into Dylan’s pants, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. It feels like he’s trying to run away; push his emotions away, and they’re leaking from the corners. 

“I thought I could do this,” he gets out. “I thought it would be fine. Fun, even.” 

“Mm,” Dylan hums.

“I can’t,” Mitch says, and it feels terrifying to admit. “I can’t do this, but I don’t want to stop, either. He makes me feel -” 

He pauses. Sucks in a breath. Lets the pain and the hurt and the emotion wash over him. Burn under his skin. 

“I’ve never felt like this before. He’s all I can think about. And – it’s so ridiculous. I know he’s treating me badly. But I – I like him so much that I just… keep forgiving him.” 

His hands feel like they’re shaking, and he takes another deep breath. Melts even closer into Dylan.

“I don’t know how to be a person without him, anymore. It’s – I keep forgetting that I was happy before this. It’s just – if it was just sex, then I’d get the fuck over it. If it was a romantic thing, then I’d deal with that too. But instead it’s this muddle of fucking everything, and none of it’s consistent.”

He’s crying, unwelcome tears leaking from the corners of his eyes into his hairline. 

“Sometimes he treats me like I’m his boyfriend, and other times I’m barely even the buddy part of fuck-buddies. He tells me he has all these feelings about me. For me. Kisses me like he’d die if he didn’t, and then – 

Then he tells me he’s too busy to even message me for a week. That he’s gone out and fucked a bunch of people. I don’t know where I stand with him, and it’s fucking with me. It hurts. I don’t know, it just – feels like I’m battling constantly between my head and heart, and I’m so fucking frustrated with myself because I know I should just leave, but I can’t.” 

Dylan makes a soft, sympathetic noise. His hands card through Mitch’s hair, and the careful intimacy of it makes Mitch’s heart clench. 

“Can’t, or don’t want to?” Dylan asks. 

Mitch laughs, but it feels ugly in his chest. He doesn’t like having to face this; doesn’t like the feeling of having to be honest with himself. It’s scary, and makes anxiety scrunch under his skin. Twists his belly, and makes his pulse race. 

“I don’t want to,” Mitch admits. “I want him, and at least this way I can pretend that he might actually love me. If I never ask, then I’ll never find out that he doesn’t.” 

“But,” Dylan starts. Pauses. Clears his throat. “Don’t take this the wrong way, dude, but you know he doesn’t. Love you, that is. He’s afraid of that kind of commitment.” 

It’s Dylan, so it doesn’t hurt like it might from someone else. He knows Dylan’s only saying this because he cares, but it’s still a little bit like a punch to the gut. A stomach-dropping truth that Mitch would rather ignore. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I do know that. I just want to keep pretending to myself that I don’t. That maybe, if things change just a little, I might have some kind of future with him.” 

Dylan hums, soft and empathetic. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “It sounds really fucking sucky.” 

“It is,” Mitch says, and laughs. “Can we talk about something else now?”

Dylan’s face seems to crumple, and he pulls Mitch in even closer. Presses his mouth to Mitch’s forehead and just breathes for a minute. 

“We can talk about whatever you want,” he says. “But I just want you to know that you’re worth way more than Willy treats you, and you deserve someone you does love you.” 

Mitch sniffs, a little overwhelmed, and presses in closer to Dylan. Let’s himself have this for a minute. Pretends for a second that he isn’t desperately in love with someone who will never love him back. 

//

They win. Mitch scores the game winning goal, and adrenalin is thrumming through him as the team slap him on the back. The atmosphere is warm, sweaty and excitable. 

“You smashed it, bro,” Auston says, pulling him into a sweaty hug. He’s shirtless, and it’s almost a shock, skin to skin. “If we didn’t have to get straight back on the plane, I’d be buying all your drinks tonight.” 

“Next time,” Mitch says, laughing. 

He ends up in the seat next to Willy on the plane, even though they don’t usually sit next to each other. Willy has his legs spread, and it makes Mitch feel like they’re squeezed in tight next to each other. Willy’s thigh is leaking warmth, and heat builds steadily between their legs, bringing with it a fervour that digs in under Mitch’s skin. He feels overwhelmed; surrounded by Willy. By the heat-damp, post shower version of him. Subsumed by the heat of him; the smell of him. Of his shampoo and his cologne and just… Willy. 

“Hey,” Willy murmurs, moving in even closer. Putting a hand on Mitch’s thigh, mouth close to Mitch’s ear. His breath is warm. “Want to come back to mine when we land?” 

And – 

It’s a lot. To spend a whole flight next to Willy, wrapped up in him; in the smell and the heat of him. He feels overwhelmed and desperate by the time they land. The bus back to the arena is almost too much.

They fuck at Willy’s, desperate and elated and kind of gross. It leaves Mitch breathless and panting afterwards, endorphins rushing through him. Willy’s grinning; looking up at him. Traces Mitch’s cheek with a soft thumb. 

“You look happy,” he says. 

“I am,” Mitch says, and in that moment, it’s true. 

//

They play the Islanders, and it’s a mediocre kind of game. Mitch doesn’t even really feel anything about it. His head is so full of Willy, and how tangled the whole situation is, that he doesn’t have space for anything else.

He finds Matt waiting for him outside the visitor’s locker room, and the feeling of relief is so huge it makes his knees go weak. 

“Gonna come back to mine, bro?” Matt asks, pulling Mitch into a hug. 

“Shit, yeah,” Mitch grins, sinking into the warmth of Matt’s arms for a second. “Just gotta tell the guys.” 

He pops his head back into the locker room, body lighter than it has been in weeks. He grins at Auston. 

“Hey,” he says. “I’m heading out with Matt. I’ll see you guys later.” 

“Nice, dude. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” Auston says with a wink. 

Next to him, Willy makes a disgruntled noise. He’s frowning. Slides up to Mitch, shoulders tight and something angry behind the eyes. Puts a hand on Mitch’s arm.

“Are you sure that’s a great idea?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Mitch asks. 

He’s not sure why Willy is angry, but it’s getting his hackles up. He feels like he’s spent so long beholden to Willy and his feelings, and now all he wants to do is see a friend and Willy doesn’t want him to. 

“It’s just Matt,” he continues. “I’ve missed him.” 

“Yeah, exactly,” Willy hisses. “You’re basically in love with him. And you know he wants to fuck you.” 

It feels like a punch to the throat, to hear that. Like Willy has taken something precious and crushed it beneath his heel as Mitch watches. 

“What?” He says, sputtering. “Seriously, Willy. What the fuck?” 

“He’s wanted to fuck you forever,” Willy says, and he sounds so angry about it. 

“Well,” Mitch says, taking a deep breath. Takes a moment to be brave. “If he does, it’s not really any of your business, is it?” 

“What?” Willy says. It looks a little like he’s been sucker punched. Like he never expected Mitch to stand up for himself. “You know it is my business.” 

And -

Mitch has never felt this angry off the ice before. It feels like his whole body is hot and tight with it, and he wants to punch Willy right in the nose. 

“No,” he hisses, almost spitting with how angry he feels. “It’s not. You’ve made it clear that what we’re doing is casual and non-monogamous, and now you want to tell me that I have to ask permission to sleep with someone else? When you never have? We don’t have that kind of relationship, Willy! You never wanted that kind of relationship. You made it very clear. And, you know what? Fuck you. I hadn’t even thought about sleeping with Matt, but if I had, and if I do, it’s got nothing to do with you. So, you can fuck right off.” 

He rips his arm out of Willy’s hold, marches down the corridor and throws himself at Matt. Lets himself get pulled into a hug, and lets the warmth of Matt’s arms reassure him. When he pulls away, he feels better than he has in months. 

//

“C’mon then,” Matt says, when he’s driven them both back to his house. “Tell me what’s going on.” 

Mitch shrugs. Breathes out. Feels his face crumple. 

“I’ve been sleeping with Willy,” he says. “And I wanted a relationship.” 

Matt nudges Mitch with his knee. Squeezes Mitch’s shoulder reassuringly. 

“But?” He asks. 

“But Willy can’t seem to decide. He treats me like a boyfriend, and then goes out and fucks someone else. Tells me I like him too much, and then complains when I spend time with other people. And I’m so tired.” 

“Do you still want to be doing this with him?” Matt asks. “I’ll support you if you do, but it sounds a little like you’re looking for an escape now.” 

“I can’t bear it anymore,” Mitch admits. It feels freeing to finally mean it. “I hate him. I don’t want to do this anymore, but I still have this awful attachment. I don’t know how to get rid of it.” 

Matt smiles.

“You know the best way to get over someone,” he says with a wink. “Get under someone else.” 

He gestures at himself, swaying his hips exaggeratedly, and it makes Mitch laugh. Breaks the tension, and he feels so much lighter. It’s like a thousand weights have been lifted from his shoulders. It’s just -

It’s nice to be able to spend time with someone who isn’t on the team. Who isn’t Willy, or someone else who’s been here for the whole saga. 

“Matt,” Mitch swallows, laughter dying in the back of his throat as he meets Matt’s gaze. “Are you serious?” 

Matt grins, and it feels almost predatory.

“Deadly,” he says. “No pressure, obviously, but if you want to fuck, I’m your guy.” 

“Willy was right.” 

Matt snorts. “About?” 

“That you want to fuck me! That you’ve wanted to fuck me.” 

Matt rolls his eyes.

“Willy needs to stop poking around in other people’s business and think about his own shit for once. That being said, he’s not wrong. Anyone with eyes could see that.” 

“I have eyes, and I didn’t notice!” Mitch says indignantly. 

“Yeah well,” Matt says, laughing a little. “I was pretty invested in you not knowing. It didn’t feel fair to want that from you.” 

“Is it... a feelings thing?” 

Matt smiles. His eyes crinkle at the corners, and it makes something fond wriggle in Mitch’s chest. 

“It could have been,” he says. “But I don’t think so anymore. You’re so far away, and I -” He pauses. “I want something that’s easy. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to sleep with you anyway.” He laughs. “But I think we’re better friends.” 

Tension that Mitch didn’t realise he was holding slides out of his shoulders. 

“Good,” he says. “I don’t know that I could handle more complications. Especially ones where feelings are involved.” 

Matt smiles. Holds his mug up in a mock toast, and Mitch just -

Looks at him. Matt’s leaning against the kitchen counter, coffee mug in one hand, steaming gently. His sweater has rolled up slightly, leaving a gap between the her and his jeans, and Mitch can’t stop looking at the skin there. He’s always known Matt was hot in an academic sense, but fuck. Matt is gorgeous. 

“So...” Mitch says, drawing it out. “You still want to bang?” 

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Matt breathes, reeling Mitch in with big, warm hands. “I really do.” 

He smiles at Mitch, eyes crinkling at the corners. Leans in and kisses him, mouth so soft. It feels like being underwater; gentle waves of affection rolling over Mitch’s skin. His spine feels almost liquid with the warmth of the moment, and his hands clench in the material of Matt’s sweater. 

“Please,” he says. 

“Anything,” Matt whispers against Mitch’s mouth. “Anything you want.”

Mitch smiles. Takes a step back, and lifts his arms. Matt laughs. Pulls Mitch’s t-shirt over his head so gently before kissing down Mitch’s neck. Slides a hot hand into the small of Mitch’s back and pulls him in closer. Smothers him with his body until Mitch is making soft, delighted noises that he can’t help.

It’s just -

Matt is kissing Mitch like he likes him. It’s throwing his relationship with Willy into relief, and Willy isn’t coming out golden. It’s never felt like this with Willy. Matt’s approaching sex playfully, and there’s something warm and exciting about it. With Willy -

It always feels like Willy’s angry. Like he’s unhappy that he wants Mitch. Matt kisses like Mitch means something - even if that something is a good friend. It feels like he’s stitching Mitch back together with his hands; touching Mitch’s skin and building him up from the floor. Reminding him that he can have fun; that sex is supposed to make him feel good. 

“Hey,” Matt says. 

He cradles Mitch’s chin in his big hands; brushes their noses together and grins. 

Mitch can feel his own hands curling; gripping at Matt’s back. Sliding over Matt’s skin; up over his shoulders; down his back. 

“Alright?” Matt asks, pinching Mitch’s hip gently. 

“Yes,” Mitch says, smiling, and surprisingly, it feels true. 

It just feels –

Good. There’re no expectations. No feelings, other than a far-reaching fondness for Matt. He thinks Matt is hot, but he’s not –

He’s not drowning in feelings like he always is with Willy. Instead, he’s just enjoying himself. 

“Good,” Matt says. “Want to move to the bed? Or maybe the couch?”

“The bed.”

He feels melty, in a warm, happy kind of way. Matt takes his hand, and tugs him towards the bedroom. His covers are thrown back, the bed a mess. It’s comfortably familiar, and Mitch can feel his whole body settle. Lean into Matt, and sigh. 

Mitch kicks a t-shirt out the way, and falls back on the bed as Matt pulls his sweater and shirt off. It makes something twitch in Mitch’s belly; the reveal of muscle. The way Matt’s biceps look, and his hands. Fuck, Matt’s hands. Mitch knows what they can do on the ice, and it makes his whole body clench with want to find out what they can do off it.

“What do you want to do?” Matt asks, standing, relaxed, at the foot of the bed. 

He slides onto the bed next to Mitch. Puts his hand on Mitch’s hip. Slides a palm, flat, over Mitch’s stomach. 

“Everything,” he says, grinning. 

“Oh really?” Matt asks. 

Mitch grins. Rolls them until he’s on top of Matt, knees either side of Matt’s hips. Drags his mouth down Matt’s chest, laughing a little as Matt shivers beneath him. He can feel Matt’s dick pressing into his ass, and he grinds down against it, heat and something like power flooding his veins. He feels strong; happy and powerful. Matt’s hands come up to Mitch’s hips, settling like hot brands on Mitch’s skin, and Mitch’s breath stutters. 

“Get your pants off,” Mitch says. “Want you to fuck me.”

“Oh, we can definitely do that,” Matt says. 

His skin is slightly flushed, and his eyes are heavy-lidded. He looks so fucking hot, and Mitch feels about ready to squirm out of his skin with how much he wants to feel Matt inside him. Wants to feel Matt, thick and hot, pressing him open. Wants to get fucked, and have it be fun. Wants to laugh, and smile and have the kind of sex that leaves him feeling happy and relaxed. 

Matt sits up, and Mitch tumbles off him with a laugh. They both wriggle out of their pants, laughing at each other when it’s particularly ungraceful. Matt gets a foot stuck in the belt of his jeans, and has to shake them off, Mitch belly laughing the whole time. By the time they’re both naked, Mitch feels nearly breathless with it, his sides aching, and he’s not felt this happy in so long. 

Matt’s grinning at him, eyes bright. He saunters over to Mitch, and the laughter dies in the air, making room for something warmer; more heated. 

“Hey,” Matt says. Pauses for a second. “Wanna fuck?”

And just like that, they’re losing it again, Mitch almost bent double with laughter, and Matt collapsing back onto the bed as his stomach shakes. 

“Hey,” Mitch mocks, pitching his voice deeper in between giggles. “Wanna fuck?”

Matt presses his face into Mitch’s hip, his breath hot against Mitch’s skin as he laughs. 

“You little shit,” he laughs. “C’mon.”

He tugs at Mitch until he tips overall, falling onto Matt with a soft noise. Mitch shivers as his skin touches Matt’s, and smiles. He nips at Matt’s skin, something fizzy and excited buzzing under his skin. He slides his knees up, straddling Matt and looks down at him. He’s just -

Warm. Looking at Mitch warmly. There’s nothing extra behind his eyes. No expectations; no fear. Just a happy fondness. A friendly warmth. Mitch touches Matt’s cheeks; the rough, five o’clock shadow, enjoying the way it rubs up against his fingers, rough and odd. Traces an eyebrow. Makes a contemplative noise.

“Do I pass muster then?” Matt asks, smirking.

Mitch laughs. 

“Nope. Sorry, I need a newer model.” 

Matt growls, grabs Mitch’s hips and rolls them over. Pins Mitch’s wrists down and bites at the skin of his neck. 

“You’re such a little shit,” he says, grinding his hips into Mitch’s. 

“You love it,” Mitch says with a grin.

“Fuck yeah.”

Matt nudges at Mitch’s leg with his knee, encouraging them up. Mitch shivers; wraps them around Matt’s middle and grins. Matt’s body is so warm against his own, and his skin is so soft. There’re freckles on his shoulders, and Mitch wants to bite them. There’s a weird kind of ache at the back of his teeth, and looking at Matt makes it worse. He wants and he’s not sure how or what. He just feels consumed by the ache of it, and it’s glorious. It’s not desperate, but heated, and it doesn’t feel like he’s searching for anything else. He just wants Matt’s body. He already has Matt’s heart - even if it’s just as a friend. 

Matt sits up a little, letting go of Mitch’s wrists, and Mitch’s hands instantly fly to Matt’s back, tracing the muscles; touching the skin. 

“Can I blow you?” Matt asks, and it’s -

A lot. His eyes are so warm, and he wants to go down on Mitch. He thinks that maybe he wants that even more than he wants to get fucked. 

“Yes,” Mitch says emphatically. “Please.” 

“Fuck.”

Matt takes a deep breath; kisses down Mitch’s chest, his mouth warm against Mitch’s skin. He’s touching Mitch all over, and it feels like his whole body is trembling with it. With the anticipation. With the feel of Matt against him. 

“Matt,” he breathes as Matt gets him in his mouth. Tangles his hands in Matt’s hair as his back arches, the heat and pleasure of it all sliding up his spine. “Fuck, Matt.” 

Matt clearly knows what he’s doing; no teeth, right amount of tongue, and Mitch finds himself close in an embarrassingly short amount of time. 

“Matt,” he says, tugging on Matt’s hair. “Matt.” 

Under his hands, Matt just shrugs, and doubles down. Twists his wrist, takes Mitch as deep as he can, and holds Mitch’s hips down as he comes, pleasure rippling out from his belly as he falls over the cliff to completion. 

“Fuck,” Mitch says, going limp against the bedsheets. It feels like his orgasm was wrung from him, and now he’s exhausted. Sweaty and knackered.

“Good?” Matt asks, as he sits up. 

“So good,” Mitch says. “God. Come here, man. Let me do something for you.” 

Matt laughs, soft and weirdly shy. 

“Already got myself off, bro,” he says. “I was jacking it while I was blowing you.” 

“Fuck,” Mitch says again. His dick twitches. “If I hadn’t just come, that would have sent me over the edge, dude. Hot.” 

Matt slides up to Mitch’s side. Makes a soft noise into Mitch’s neck as they come down, both their breathing slowing as they settle. 

“How about we watch something on Netflix?” Matt asks, when their sweat has cooled enough to be tacky. “And maybe skip the chill.”

“Oh my god,” Mitch laughs. “You’re so old.”

“I’m a spring fucking chicken,” Matt laughs, and pinches Mitch gently. 

“Oh yes,” Mitch nods, faux seriously. “A spritely chicken of eighty-five.” 

“That’s it,” Matt says. “Outrageous!”

He makes as if to tickle Mitch, who rolls up and off the bed, adrenaline kicking in, laughing the whole time. He grabs his pants from the floor, and sprints down the stairs, as Matt runs after him, laughing the whole time. 

It’s kind of amazing. 

//

“I’m sorry we don’t have time for more sex,” Matt says later, when they’re both dressed and a few hours into Stranger Things. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Mitch says. “It was so good, but I think any more and the mood might be spoilt.”

He shrugs. He’s not upset about missing out. He’s had a great time, and also realised what’s been missing from this thing with Willy. Matt and Mitch work because they like each other, and they love each other, and every second Mitch spends with Matt, he’s reminded of that. Matt’s friendship is infinitely more valuable than Willy’s half-assed faux relationship. 

“No,” Matt says. “You’re right.”

“I always am,” Mitch says, dodging Matt’s hands as he goes in for the pinch. 

See - 

Mitch thinks that what he did with Matt - 

It’s what sex with Willy should feel like, if Willy cared about him at all. Instead, it’s fraught with lies and complications that don’t need to be there. It’s Willy using Mitch for physical pleasure, and ignoring all the ways he’s hurting him. It’s supposed to be fun and carefree, but instead it’s a complicated kind of pseudo relationship where Mitch doesn’t get half of what he wants, and Willy gets everything he needs, yet nothing he deserves. 

“Hey,” Matt says, squeezing Mitch’s hand gently as he leaves. “You don’t need him. You’re ace, and so many people love you. I love you.”

“I know,” Mitch says, but this time it feels like he actually does. “I love you, too.”

“See you in Toronto,” Matt says. “Gonna get your asses handed to you.” 

“You wish,” Mitch says, grinning, as the door shuts. “He fucking wishes.” 

//

Mitch is just gathering his stuff after practice, when Willy insinuates himself into Mitch’s space. He’s a little bit damp, towel wrapped around his waist, and even though Mitch doesn’t want it to, Willy still makes Mitch’s gut clench. 

“Hey,” Willy says. “Missed you. Want to get out of here?”

And -

Mitch almost laughs. Before, it wasn’t even a question whether he’d say yes or not. Now, though, it feels ridiculous that Willy’s even asking. That Willy thinks that Mitch wants anything to do with him.

“No,” he says.

Willy takes a step back, mouth falling open. He looks like he’s been slapped, shock written into every line of his body. 

“What?” He says. “What the fuck?”

“I don’t want to,” Mitch says, and feels a flutter of pride when he realises it’s at least eighty per cent the truth. “I know this is probably a shock to you, but spending time with you makes me sad.” 

Around them, conversations are falling silent. Mitch doesn’t really know if this is the best place to be having this conversation, but now it’s started, he doesn’t want it to stop in case he loses his nerve. 

“I haven’t been honest with you,” Mitch continues. “A lot of that was because I was afraid. Afraid that if I said something, you wouldn’t want to be with me anymore. So, I didn’t say anything, and slowly let myself shrivel up inside and - I’m not blaming you. I’m at least half to blame here, because I didn’t value myself enough to stand up for myself and ask you to make a choice. But, now... now I am. Now I’m not even asking. I’m saying that I don’t want to do this anymore. I am worth more than a half-relationship with someone who can’t decide what they want.” 

Willy looks gobsmacked, cheeks flushing a deep, angry pink.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Marner?” He spits.

“You’re an emotionally unavailable, manipulative bastard, and he’s had enough of you, is what he’s talking about,” Zach throws across the room, bristling where he stands. 

“Thanks,” Mitch says dryly. “That’s very helpful and definitely not going to escalate this situation at all.” 

Zach shrugs. “I’m sick of him not taking responsibility for his actions.” 

“I am here you know,” Willy hisses. “And I don’t know why you think you can butt in on business that’s just between Mitch and I.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Mitch says. “None of this matters. I hope you find what you’re looking for, Willy. I just don’t want to do this anymore.”

He picks up his bag, and pushes out of the room as quickly as he can, the sound of a locker room in uproar disappearing behind him as he strides towards the exit.

//

“So I didn’t handle that amazingly,” Mitch says, later, on the phone to Connor.

“Maybe not,” Connor says. “But you handled it.” 

And - 

Mitch starts to laugh. Laugh and laugh, his shoulders loose and his heart light. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I really fucking did.” 

//

Mitch knows hockey is going to be a little bit of a mess after this, and he’s going to have to face the consequences, but he’s mostly just relieved to have it over with. To have his life stretching before him, unencumbered by Willy. By his own inability to stand up for himself. By his inability to love himself. 

“I’m worth more,” he says to himself, his reflection staring back at him. “I’m worth so much more.” 

//

**Epilogue**

Mitch’s phone vibrates just as the coffee machine stops, buzzing against the marble of the countertop. 

Zach (14:09): _you still in toronto? Want linner? Lunch + dinner. _

Mitch rolls his eyes. Leans back as two strong arms wrap around him from behind, big hands resting on his belly. 

“What’re you going to say?” Matt asks, his chin resting on Mitch’s shoulder.

Mitch smiles. Turns in Matt’s arms. Kisses him gently. 

“Do you want to go?” 

Matt grins. Lets his hands wander. Squeezes Mitch’s ass. 

“Yeah,” he says. “If you want to.”

//

Mitch (14:15): _sure. Bringing a plus one_ ❤️

**Author's Note:**

> I had great difficulty tagging this, so please let me know if you think it needs additional tags/more thorough warnings.


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